Family Dinner
by Zora4995
Summary: Everybody knows that the current residents of the New York Institute are not the most conventional family. What happens when the lot of them attempt to have a normal family dinner? Set sometime before Isabelle's visit to the Shadowhunter Academy in The Evil We Love. Malec, Clace, Lucelyn, mentions of Sizzy. Please R&R.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first TMI fanfic, so please no flames.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to the amazing Cassandra Clare. Unfortunately, I am not her. Yet. ^_^

* * *

"Are you _sure_ your father is willing to eat dinner in the same room as me?"

"Magnus, my parents _just got divorced_. I highly doubt that either of them are going to give a damn that you're there." Alec crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, waiting impatiently for his partner.

"Thanks, darling. Love you, too," Magnus called dryly from the bedroom, where he had spent the past half hour trying to find something that Robert and Maryse Lightwood would approve of. Well, at the very least something they wouldn't _disapprove_ of.

"Oh, by the Angel," Alec muttered. "Magnus, you _know_ what I meant," he called. "It is just a meal."

"Right, because the thought of having dinner with your entire family is so very calming," Magnus said as he _finally_ emerged from their room.

Alec made a noise that was somewhere between choking and snorting. "Magnus, you... you look like..."

"You?" Magnus asked, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops on his pants. "Yeah, that's kinda what I was going for."

The ordinarily flashy warlock was wearing a black sport coat, unbuttoned to reveal a navy blue shirt, over black jeans and...

"Doc Martens?" Alec asked. " _Silver_ Doc Martins? I don't recall _ever_ wearing those."

Magnus grinned. "I said I _look_ like you. I didn't say I _am_ you."

Alec shook his head. "Whatever. Can we go now?" he asked.

"Getting a little impatient, are we, darling?"

"Dinner is at six, and it's 5:04 now!"

"Relax, Alec," Magnus said, wrapping the infamous blue Gap scarf around his partner's neck. "Manhattan is only, what, forty minutes away? We'll be fine. We may be cutting it a little close-"

"Gee, you think?"

" _But we will be fine._ " Magnus insisted. He reached up to brushed Alec's hair out of his eyes. A small smile danced across his lips. " _Now_ who's comforting who?"

"Whom," Alec corrected, opening the door.

"Screw you."

Alec grinned and started down the stairs. The handrail was a little low for him-they usually were-so he ran his hand along the wall instead. Ever since a certain incident following his first date with Magnus in which Alec had fallen backwards down the stairs, he tended to be a bit more careful around this particular staircase.

The couple made their way to the train station without incident, and had only just boarded when Alec's phone began to ring. He took it out of his pocket and checked the caller ID. "Jace," he said to Magnus in explanation before answering, "What's up?"

"We have a problem." Of course.

"What?" Alec asked, dreading the answer.

"Isabelle's lost her shit," Jace said plainly.

"Um, Jace? Gonna need a little more information than that."

Alec heard Jace sigh. "Well, you know how she and Simon have been having... issues?"

"Well, _that's_ an understatement." Ever since Isabelle had bared her soul to Simon in front of his entire class at the Shadowhunter Academy and Simon had completely rejected her, the mere mention of the ex-vampire's name had been enough to send her off on an emotional roller coaster. These past few months had not been pleasant for the New York Shadowhunters, to say the least.

"Yeah, well, we just checked the mail and there was a letter from him addressed to Izzy. I think you can imagine how that went down."

Alec nodded, then realized that Jace couldn't see him and said, "Yeah, I can. How is she?"

"Crying in her room. Well, we think she's crying. Or at least she was. These past few minutes there've mostly just been a lot of crashing noises. We think she may have broken the windows. Clary's trying to talk her into opening the door, but I think she may need to use that unlocking rune. Maryse ran out to get something for dinner tonight, so it's just us right now, and I'm really not used to dealing with an emotional Isabelle."

Of course he wasn't. None of them were. Up until this year, Alec had seen his little sister cry maybe twice. Then she met some boy and finally gave her heart away, and the idiot had the nerve to break it. The thought made Alec want to strangle Simon. Still, the rational part of him knew that the guy was honestly trying to do the right thing. Alec had not known Simon very well, but the few times they _had_ talked, the vampire had seemed like the kind of guy Alec might actually _want_ his little sister dating. The whole situation was unbelievably complicated, and Alec was not exactly known for his skill and experience when it came to dating. "Look, Jace, just... try to hold things together 'til we get there."

"Um, I'll try..." Jace said, but he didn't sound hopeful.

Just then there was a crashing noise, and Alec could hear Clary shouting, "Jace! Get off the damn phone and _help!_ "

"Got to go," Jace said quickly, and then hung up.

Alec put his phone back in his pocket and ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

"What's wrong, darling?" Magnus asked, laying a hand on Alec's shoulder.

"More Izzy-Simon stuff," said Alec.

Magnus shook his head. "It's just sad to see those two like that. Especially after what Simon did in Edom."

"That's not you fault, Magnus. It was Simon's decision."

"It was my decision, too."

"Magnus-"

"I'm not saying I wish I had died in Edom, Alec. I just wish there was more I could have done to fix Simon's memory."

"I know, Magnus. I know." Alec laid his head on Magnus's shoulder, and Magnus leaned into his partner. The two stayed like that, comfortable in each other's arms, for the remainder of the train ride.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: When I started writing this chapter, I told myself this would be nothing but fluff, with maybe a touch of angsty brokenhearted teenagerness from Isabelle, and then some more fluffy happy stuff. Then I got about halfway through and, well, _that_ plan went straight to hell.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to the amazing Cassandra Clare. Unfortunately, I am not her. Yet. ^_^

* * *

Isabelle Lightwood walked into the laundry room to find her mother frantically tearing apart the linen closet. "Uh, mom?" she asked gently. "What are you doing?"

"Where the _hell_ is the blue tablecloth?!" Maryse shouted in the general direction of the pillowcases.

Isabelle cleared her throat before answering, "Jace may or may not have burned a massive hole in it."

Maryse froze. "Jace _what?_ How the hell did he- You know what? I don't want to know." She stood up and stormed out of the room.

"Mom," Isabelle called, hurrying after her, "where are you going?"

"Well _apparently_ I'm going to buy a freaking tablecloth because _somebody_ burned a hole in the last one!"

"We do have other tablecloths, you know."

Maryse whipped around so fast that Isabelle nearly crashed straight into her. "In one hour, my ex-husband and my future son-in-law will coming here for a family dinner, and _so help me god,_ this goddamn meal is going to be goddamn _perfect."_

Given the manic look on her mother's face, Isabelle decided to keep her answer to one syllable: "'Kay."

Maryse spun around again and continued on her warpath out the front door of the Institute.

"What was that all about?" Jace asked.

Isabelle turned towards the sound of his voice to find him and Clary in full Shadowhunter gear. "Remember when you accidentally set that tablecloth on fire?"

"I still think that was partially Alec's fault."

" _You were the one holding the lighter!_ "

"What were you saying about the tablecloth?"

Izzy rolled her eyes. If you can't beat 'em, change the subject. Very Jace. "Mom's out getting a new one."

Jace gave her a perplexed look. "A new tablecloth? Don't we already _own_ more tablecloths? Do we have some sort of fixed tablecloth quota?"

Isabelle threw her hands in the air. "The hell if I know. I think this dinner is driving Mom crazy."

"Um, sorry to interrupt, but I think you might want this," Clary broke in. She held out an envelope.

Isabelle took it, wondering who could possibly have sent her a letter. She didn't exactly have a very large friend circle, and the few people in it all knew how to use their e-mails. Then she saw the return address.

Simon Lewis  
Shadowhunter Academy  
Alicante, Idris

Something inside of Isabelle snapped. She had put herself out there time and time again. She had given him _everything,_ and he had rejected her. Twice. Publicly. And now he had the nerve to write to her? She imagined what the letter might say. That he was wrong. That he was sorry. That he wanted her back. Well, so what if he wanted her back? She didn't want him. She didn't like him. She never wanted to see him again. Isabelle hated Simon Lewis, and she loved him, and the fact that she loved him made her hate him even more because _he wasn't her Simon._ He had made that _very_ clear the last time they spoke to each other.

Isabelle felt Jace's hand on her arm. She looked up to see his face crinkled with worry. "Are you okay, Izzy?"

Izzy. Simon had called her Izzy. Back when they were friends. Back when they were more than friends.

"You're crying," Jace added.

Isabelle yanked her arm out of his hand. " _I am_ not _crying!_ " she spat, before turning and running away. She ran down halls, up stairs, through the winding maze that was the Institute until finally she reached her room. She slammed the door behind her, locking it before collapsing onto her bed and sobbing.

Isabelle Lightwood did not cry. Isabelle Lightwood most certainly did not cry over boys. Isabelle Lightwood was cold, emotionless, and utterly above it all.

Goddamn Simon Lewis.

 _I hate him,_ she thought. _I hate him. I hate him. I hate him._ But no matter how many times she told herself this, there was a part of her that knew it could never be true. Isabelle told that part of her to eat shit and die.

* * *

"Real smooth, Jace," said Clary.

" _Me?_ " he asked. "You're the one who gave her the letter."

"You didn't have to point out that she was crying. You know she hates crying."

"Whatever. The letter was from Simon, yes?"

"Yeah. I got one, too."

"What, none for me?" he said with a fake pout.

"I've known him longer. Now can we please stop bickering about the letters and go find Izzy?"

"She's probably just in her room. She's a tough girl. She'll be fine."

Somewhere upstairs, something made a noise like glass shattering.

Clary raised her eyebrows. "You were saying?"

"Technically," Jace said, "I only said that _Isabelle_ would be fine. I said nothing about her windows."

Clary rolled her eyes and the two hurried upstairs to stop Isabelle from bringing the entire Institute down around them.

* * *

Isabelle threw the hand mirror across the room with a satisfying _crash._ Throwing things felt much better than crying. She got up off her bed and began tearing books off her bookshelf. When it was empty, she tipped the whole bookshelf over on top of the sea of paper and kicked the wall behind it for good measure. She slid her whip off her arm and snapped it at her ceiling lamp, flinging it to the ground in a shower of plaster. From across the room, she spotted a picture frame lying face down on her desk. She stormed over to it and, after only a moment's glance at the image of her and Simon grinning at the camera, threw the picture out the window.

A tentative knock came at the door, followed by the sound of Clary's voice. "Isabelle?" she called gently. Izzy picked up her copy of the _Codex_ off her desk and threw it at the door before continuing her fiery rampage. She hated him. She hated him. She hated him. She collapsed to the floor.

Isabelle had no idea how long she had been tearing her room apart, but evidently it had been long enough for her rage to simmer down and die out. Her anger was gone. Her tears were gone. Now all she was left with was a hollow sadness and room full of broken things.

Behind her, the door opened, and a set of very familiar-sounding footsteps made their way around her ex-bookshelf and knelt beside her. "Isabelle." Alec's voice was soft, kind, gentle. It brought her back to when she was little and had nightmares about the demons and monsters she had known were lurking out there in the dark. She used to pad her way down the hall to Alec's room, where he had always been more than happy to hold her there until she fell asleep.

Isabelle had thought that she was done crying. She had been wrong. She sobbed into his shoulder, and he held her and whispered a jumble of reassurances until she really could not cry any more. He didn't ask. He didn't judge. For that Isabelle was eternally grateful.

"I love you, Alec," she whispered into his tear-soaked shoulder.

"Love you too, Izzy," he murmured into her hair.


End file.
